


How to Shoot at Someone Who Outdrew You

by nevercomestheday



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Feelings, Guilt, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Sad Ending, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevercomestheday/pseuds/nevercomestheday
Summary: Freddy set his whole world on fire, and try as Larry may, they're both going up in flames.





	How to Shoot at Someone Who Outdrew You

**Author's Note:**

> I have to be honest here, I was inspired by the title of lydiduh's fic, "It's Not Somebody Who's Seen The Light" and listened to Hallelujah on repeat while writing this. I love this pairing, it's the angstiest one I've got and sometimes we all need a little angst! <3
> 
> Characters belong to Quentin Tarantino, and Leonard Cohen wrote the lyric that became the title.

Everything is moving in slow motion.

 

The air is on fire, why is the air on fire? Everything is going up in flames around Freddy, every speck of dust on the ground, every little breeze blowing in from the crack the warehouse door leaves open, every drop of blood pooling around him. 

He doesn’t know what time it is, the day itself less and less tangible by the moment. The room is going up in smoke, taking with it the corpse of his long-dead conscience. 

 

It makes sense. It has to be this way.

 

He took the purest thing in the world- the love Larry has given him day after day, in spite of it all- for granted.

 

Marvin is wailing and Larry is still somewhere with Eddie and Pink, Freddy’s gun is hot in his hand and the thud of Vic hitting the ground is drowned out by Freddy’s own mind crying out.

 

_ Stop! Stop all of this! Stop the nightmare! Wake up! _

 

But it’s no dream, though he’s lost enough blood to make the room fuzzy and distant. 

 

Is he talking to the cop in the chair? Or is that in his head too?

 

Larry comes running back into the room and doesn’t even notice Vic. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t look. He hurries to Freddy’s side, as if he deserves it.

Sweet Larry. Selfless Larry. 

 

That poor bastard may be a killer, he may be a thief and a criminal but he damn sure doesn’t deserve any of the hell Freddy is dragging him through.

 

He wishes for death. Prays for it. Anything. A release, to fade out into the fuzzy ether around him.

And then Eddie starts waving his gun around. If Freddy didn’t know any better, he’d think he loved Vic.

 

Maybe he did. Who the fuck knows. Stranger things have happened, Freddy thinks, noticing just how similarly Eddie and Larry defend their “buddies.”

 

It’s all a blur but for some reason, he hasn’t bled out his sense of self-preservation, not yet. He’s still defending himself, and damn it all, so is Larry. 

He just can’t make this easy, can he?

 

When Joe shows up just as pissed as Eddie, Freddy is relieved. It’s almost over, the cops are gonna burst in any minute and he’ll get to die the undignified death he’s earned, cold and alone in the back of some ambulance away from the shame Larry’s eyes bore into him.

 

Any second now. Any second now. Come on, any second now.

 

No one shows up. No cavalry, no white knights there to relieve Freddy from his ultimate disgrace. No, just Joe aiming a gun at Freddy and Eddie aiming a gun at Larry and Larry… Larry defending Freddy.

 

He’s willing to lay down his life. For this dying sack of shit.

 

The shots ring out through the warehouse and for a moment, Freddy thinks maybe it’s over. Maybe Larry is dead, maybe he’ll die thinking Freddy was the kind of man he deserved to fall for.

 

But here he comes, crawling up the ramp through the searing pain in his gut, to see Freddy. To hold Freddy, to soothe Freddy.

And as much as he hates it, hates himself, he needs it. He needs Larry, needs to feel held and loved as the world grows dimmer and dimmer before his eyes. He’s crying, but he’s so dehydrated, bled dry, that there are no tears.

 

“Looks like we’re gonna have to… do a little time.”

 

Freddy owes it to Larry to tell him. He deserves a hell of a lot more, to never have been roped into this godawful mess, but there’s no sense in pretending things can change now.

 

So he tells him. And the sound of Larry sobbing is more painful than any bullet ever could be.

 

“I’m so sorry.” Like that means jack shit. Like any words could ever truly convey the guilt.

 

Freddy braces for the bullet he’s practically begging for, but Larry hesitates, stroking the traitor’s face lovingly as he had so many times before. 

 

He waits. Each second is an eternity, but an eternity in Larry’s arms is certainly better than the eternity Freddy knows is waiting for him by the end of today.

 

And here come the police. There they are, those stupid blue bastards, coming in here late. After all this mess, Freddy knows he’s no cop. He’s no criminal, he’s no cop, he’s nothing. He doesn’t fit anywhere and trying to fit both places at once is what got him here. 

 

He deserves it all. It’s only fair.

 

Larry waits until the police have their guns trained on his face, shouting in a language Freddy can no longer understand. It hits him like a sack of bricks.

 

Larry isn’t gonna kill Freddy unless he gets to go with him. 

 

After everything, after all the betrayal and backstabbing and lying and heartbreak, the poor sap is still so in love with Freddy that he can’t bear to live without him. 

 

Suicide by cop. How poetic.

 

Just as Larry squeezes the trigger, Freddy grips him as hard as his dying arms can, ready to go to Heaven or Hell or nowhere at all. 

 

It doesn’t matter. Larry is going with him.


End file.
